


Three Months, Eleven Days and Nine Hours

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Friendship, Food Forager Draco Malfoy, H/D Food Fair 2018, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hungry Draco Malfoy, M/M, Paroled Draco Malfoy, Post-Hogwarts, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Romance, Soup Kitchens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 12:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16598270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: Broke and living in a one room hovel in Knockturn Alley, Draco hunts in rubbish bins for food. Nothing could be more humiliating, right? Unless you're Draco Malfoy...





	Three Months, Eleven Days and Nine Hours

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[88](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E_uQJlIb5C6nLnMg8VrUUnrKtyx16is1FLbyvoxLEik/edit): Soup Kitchen or Meal Centre.
> 
> Thank you to the mods for their unending patience with me. There are not enough words on earth to thank B and M for their sage advice and speedy beta work. This story would not exist in readable form without B and for that I am eternally grateful. And thanks to E for being such a great cheerleader!
> 
> Dear prompter - I hope you enjoy my interpretation of your delightful idea. ♥

Draco pushed his broom across the floor of the dark, dismal room. Bithersee and Dankwell Apothecary wasn't particularly bright and cheerful on the best of days, but after the store closed in the evenings it was even less appealing. Still he had a job and a place to live, if you could call the single room in the attic of the apothecary building a room. True, it had a bed, a small ice box and a warming plate, but it was so far from what he used to call a _room_ it was practically laughable. Back when he had a home, and a life, and a future, but there was no point in dwelling on _that_.

After trying several times to push Merlin only knew what off the workroom floor with the broom, Draco paused, bending down to use the dull blade he carried in his back pocket to scrape it loose. As he stood, his head spun, and he had to grab the work table to stop from landing face down on the still filthy floor. He wasn't overly concerned. Well, that wasn't exactly true. His light-headedness was from hunger, and the only thing in his flat was bread so mouldy he knew it would have to be binned tonight without a nibble. Draco sighed expansively wondering just how his once _charmed life_ had gone to shite.

"Right," Draco said to the empty room. "Your father was an arse who allowed a madman to dictate your future. Brilliant move, Lucius. May you continue to rot in hell." He waited, almost as if he expected a reply. Perhaps he did. Even after all this time, he'd have moments when he thought he saw his father walking down Diagon, turning towards Knockturn. It'd nearly given him a heart attack once; Draco'd run after the figure only to discover it was a woman, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, her body hidden by the swirl of a black cloak. The relief had been almost overwhelming. How terrible of a son was he that he wanted his father to stay in the grave?

Still, Bithersee had known Lucius and was willing to give Draco a room in exchange for him cleaning the shop every night after closing. He just refused to pay Draco any dosh in return, which made it harder to purchase necessities of life like boots without holes and simple food. With a bit of hope, Draco checked the bin in the corner. Sometimes one of the daily staff would toss out a bit of their lunch. Draco considered those days a _bonus_ as he wouldn't have to dig through the street bins for scraps of food. 

If his mother could see him now, she'd be mortified, he thought bitterly. But then the realization that his beautiful mother was no longer alive hit Draco like a Bludger to the chest, and he struggled not to cry. He'd lost both his parents within months of one another, and his future soon after that at the hand of the Ministry for Magic. With a heavy heart, Draco finished cleaning the shop and locked it for the evening. 

Maybe he wasn't that terribly hungry after all.

oo00oo

Draco had tried to simply go to his room after he finished cleaning the shop, but the hollow ache in his stomach had pulled him out of his melancholy and into the evening air. It was still warm for late autumn and Draco was grateful. It was humiliating enough to have to _dig_ for something to eat, but when the weather was raining or cold, well that just added insult to injury, now didn't it?

Draco moved quickly through Knockturn Alley and down the road to an Apparition point. The wand the Ministry had provided allowed Apparition, although it made Apparating with it dodgy at best. One day, he suspected he'd splinch something vital and die in the middle of the road. Perhaps that was what the old arseholes in the Wizengamot had wanted; it would certainly solve the issue of having let him live. If you wanted to call what he was doing living.

He landed in a dark, narrow alley in London's East End. He liked this area best when foraging for food. In a couple of blocks there were over two dozen restaurants and if he'd timed his arrival right most would have just closed for the evening and the trash wouldn't be too old. He pressed back against the alley wall when he heard voices approaching. "I'm telling you, Lori," said a deep voice, "that guide was full of shite. If Jack the Ripper ate in that pub he'dve died long before all those killings. That food was disgusting." Draco caught _Lori's_ chuckle, but missed her reply as they turned the corner. He knew exactly what pub the man was talking about. He'd foraged there once and had been spectacularly ill. He suspected their food supplier wasn't exactly top notch. 

Draco moved from that alley to another in the next block. It was Draco's favourite place to find food. Wasting no time at all he started with the bakery and nearly cried with joy when the first bag he opened had two bagels that appeared to be intact. He quickly stuffed them into his rucksack and moved to the next bin. He'd learned quite quickly that spending too much time in one place could alert a nosy neighbour and that the coppers would be there in no time. Although he did imagine spending the night in a Muggle lockup would at least warrant him a warm room and a decent meal. But it still wasn't worth the risk. Merlin only knew what they'd do if they found a wand on him. 

The next two bins smelled so foul he moved right past. The one bin at the end of the alley was behind a restaurant he wasn't familiar with, but they often had some bread or a part of a sandwich. Draco'd managed to find two decent rolls when he discovered a round take-away container. When he opened it, Draco realized someone must have left it behind that evening. Inside was what looked and smelled like beef and barley soup. He quickly closed the lid while he glanced around to be certain no one was watching him. He shoved the container into his rucksack. He scurried through the deep shadows, Disapparating the moment he was at the Apparition point. 

_The small woman who stood hidden in the dark rear doorway of the building watched the blond man disappear into the night, nearly sighing in relief that he'd found the container of soup. He was an odd one, she thought. But something about him pulled at her heart…_

oo00oo

One thing Draco had learned since the end of the war, well besides some decent Cleaning Charms for his _job_ , was how to ration food. Gone were the days when he'd pick at his dinner plate knowing that Jinxey would sneak him sweets from the kitchen or deliver a bacon butty at his command. When he'd still been someone who was looking forward to a date with a beautiful man, a man who had become an unexpected friend first… but there was no point in recalling any of that. Those days were over. Now, Draco knew that by eating a small bit at a time, Draco was able to make the bagels, along with the soup and rolls last nearly four days. The down side to this, ignoring the fact that he was about to forage through the trash for more food, was it was Friday. The restaurants tended to have longer hours on the weekends and the crowds didn't clear nearly as quickly. Draco managed to check the bakery bin. He found a bag with nearly an entire cardamom bun and another bag with a sausage roll. Just as he thought perhaps Friday wasn't such a bad night for foraging after all, the back door of one of the restaurants slammed open, and Draco was forced to hide behind the bakery's bins.

Unfortunately, it wasn't just the busboy dumping the rubbish, but what appeared to be the cook and maybe a dishwasher stepping out for a fag. After what seemed forever, they dropped and crushed their butts and went back inside. Draco kept low and crept past, in case they came back out. Finally, he was at the restaurant where he'd found that delicious soup. He glanced at the door, relieved to see the lights were low and the inside was fairly dark. Carefully opening the lid, Draco looked inside. He opened the first bag and nearly gagged at the smell. He wasn't sure what it was, but nothing could force him to look inside. Not even the hope of more soup. Under that was a brown bag, Draco discovered another round container. Inside was what looked like some kind of chicken soup. It was thick and he could see it was chocked full of veggies and chicken and rice. He closed the container quickly and pulled it to his chest. His heart was pounding. He looked back at the kitchen door. Was someone watching him? Every instinct he had told him to drop the food back in the bin and run. But the smells coming from the bag made his stomach rumble in disagreement. Casting better judgement aside, because really, Draco thought, when had he ever really used good judgement, he pulled the bag from the bin and closed the lid.

He wanted to Apparate back to his hovel on the spot, but the thought of a Ministry fine for performing magic in a Muggle alley, stopped him. With a quick glance that took in the area around him, Draco rushed back to the alley opening, trying to ignore the fine hairs that were standing up on the back of his neck.

_She watched him from the deep shadows. Hoping she hadn't been too obvious, relief rushing through her when he found the container of chicken soup. Once he was gone, she eased the door closed silently._

Back in his flat, Draco unpacked tonight's _offerings_ , still apprehensive about the bag from the last restaurant's bin. He certainly wasn't best pleased with the thought that some Muggle might be watching him dig for food in their bins, especially when he considered that someone could have magic in their family and might have lost a family member to Death Eaters in the war and was slowly poisoning him with binned take-away. As he ate the first spoonful of the chicken soup, he groaned in appreciation and decided there were worse ways to die.

oo00oo

The following week ended up being one of the worst Draco could imagine. Dankwell'd had the brilliant idea to _reinvent_ Pepper-Up potion. Unfortunately, the problem was that while Dankwell might be a skilled brewer, he was clueless about how to create the spell to begin with. Every night that week, Draco had come downstairs to cauldrons with potions burned to the bottoms and more gunk on the floors than he'd seen in his entire time there. The first night he'd left a bit of goo on the side of one of the cauldrons and had been woken when the shop opened by a Howler telling him how useless he was and if the cauldrons weren't spotless the next morning, he'd be out of a job. Considering his only other option was sleeping alongside the bins he often foraged in and given winter was just around the corner, being tossed on his arse into Knockturn wasn't something Draco wanted to entertain. Not to mention the very real possibility that he'd end up in Azkaban when the Ministry found out. So he scrubbed the blasted cauldrons at night, using as few spells as possible. He still preferred to stay off the radar and he could only do that by using magic as little as possible to keep his Magical signature quiet.

More distressing was that he'd nearly run out of food again. Draco knew he could and would find food where he generally foraged, but something about the convenience of finding those full take-away containers bothered him. He decided the best thing to do was to spend a little time watching to see who was putting food out for him. It was just past ten that evening when Draco moved quietly into the alley. He didn't even bother with the bakery tonight. He was intent on finding a place to hide where he could see if someone was actually leaving food for him and, if they were, why the hell they might be doing so. Burrowing himself behind some cardboard boxes and the neighbouring restaurants trash bins, Draco waited. 

The night air was chilly, and Draco was wishing he'd put on another jumper. He was considering the advisability of a Warming Charm when the door to the restaurant opened. A woman poked her head out. She wasn't very tall and she wore an apron over her clothes. She reminded Draco of that Patil girl Potter had taken to the Yule Ball. She glanced around before bumping the door open with a hip. In one hand she carried a take-away container and in the other hand she had what appeared to be a crumpled bag. Moving quickly, she stepped to the bin and raised the lid. Draco watched as she carefully placed the take-away container on the top of the rubbish and then gently set the crumpled bag over it. Unfortunately, at that exact moment Draco leaned a bit too far and slipped on something wet and disgusting on the ground, his foot loudly skittering across the ground. When the woman froze, Draco knew she'd heard him. 

His heart was pounding so hard, Draco was certain it could be heard on the next block. He closed his eyes and considered Apparating, but, again, he knew he couldn't afford the fine. _Fight or flight_ kept repeating in his head. Suddenly he sensed someone near him. He looked up into the amused eyes of the lovely dark-haired woman. She smiled shyly at him and held out her hand. 

"It would appear neither of us is particularly skilled in stealth," she said in a lilting voice with just a trace of an accent. 

Draco eyed her suspiciously before taking her hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He quickly pulled his hand free from hers. 

"You've been leaving me food," Draco stated. 

The woman nodded. "If you'd come inside, I will attempt to explain."

Draco hesitated. "Why?"

Wrapping her arms around her middle, the woman shivered. "Why? Well there are several answers to that. The simple one is, it's quite chilly out here and I'd prefer not to catch my death. The kitchen is warm and I'd be happy to answer the other _why's_ in there." 

She turned and walked to the door. She opened it and looked around at Draco. "The choice is yours. I'll not force you." With that she stepped inside, leaving the door open a crack.

Draco thought of the delicious food he'd recently eaten. He looked over at the door. It had been so long since someone had looked out for him, he wasn't sure he understood. His mother had been a fierce protector, but she was gone, leaving him with no one he could trust. But there was something in the woman's eyes that told Draco he could trust _her_. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he walked to the door and followed the woman inside.

Aromas of food and spices immediately filled Draco's senses. He inhaled deeply, and his stomach gave a loud rumble. 

"Please," the woman gestured towards a stool that stood in front of a shiny stainless-steel counter, "sit and warm up. Perhaps you'll even allow me to give you a meal that you've not had to _search_ for."

Draco sat. "You've been feeding me." He said again. "What I don't understand is why. You don't even know me."

She smiled and Draco noticed how very beautiful she was. "First let me introduce myself. I'm Rohana. Rohana Narain. And I don't need to know you to understand that you're hungry." She gave a small shrug. "I run this place and my manager has no problem with me giving out meals at times other than our normal hours. He's a very generous man."

She moved around the kitchen as she spoke. Pulling containers from the large refrigerator. "We always have things on hand for a quick meal. Hunger doesn't always keep regular meal times, and we like to be prepared."

Draco watched as the slight woman scooped some beef stew from a container into a large bowl. She took the bowl and placed it inside a box on the counter. She pushed some buttons and he could see the bowl turning inside. Draco wanted to ask her what the fuck was happening here, but he didn't want this Muggle woman to know he hadn't a clue what was going on inside the box.

Rohana looked over and apparently saw the apprehension on his face. "Oh, sorry about using the microwave. I'd normally heat the stew on the hob, but I've already cleaned it for the night and really don't want to have to do it again." 

The machine began to beep and Draco wondered if the entire place was going to explode, when she opened the door and pulled out the now steaming bowl of stew. 

"Here you are. Give it a moment to cool or you'll burn your tongue for certain. Let me just slice up some of the bread I have left." Rohana opened a drawer and pulled out a loaf of bread. Placing it on the counter she plucked a knife from a stand and quickly cut two thick slices, which she placed on a plate and slid next to the bowl. She added a large pat of butter and left the knife for Draco to use. "Eat up…." 

His stomach gave an appreciative grumble. "It smells amazing." He hesitated. "I'm Draco…Malfoy," he added softly. "But I still don't understand why you're doing this for me." He picked at his sleeve, his hand rubbing over the Mark that marred his pale skin. "I've really not found Mu.." he coughed, "many to care about people like me."

Rohana looked sad at that. "Well, Draco Malfoy, now you have."

They shared a long look before Draco looked away.

He couldn't stop himself from taking a mouthful of the aromatic food. The beef was tender and the veggies were cooked perfectly. Not to mention the sauce was absolutely heaven. He moaned in appreciation and then looked completely appalled with himself.

"Oh Mer… crap," Draco stuttered out. "It's just that it's so good." He felt his face heat. "Not that the food you'd left for me before wasn't good. It's just this is fresh and hot and…" He drifted off. He'd almost told this woman that food tasted a bit different when warmed with a charm. 

Rohana laughed. "Please don't apologise. It's a profound compliment to a cook when their meal is so deeply enjoyed. Eat while it is hot."

Draco nodded and continued eating while Rohana told Draco about attending university and then finding a job with a big company. Draco hoped he was nodding in the right places, as he truly hadn't a clue what she was talking about. His only foray into the Muggle world was to dig in their rubbish bins for food. But she talked on and on about how her job after uni wasn't what she'd hoped. Then one day she saw an advert for volunteers in a new soup kitchen opening near her flat. Phoenix Rising - the name intrigued her so she stopped in and talked to the man who was to be in charge. She started volunteering on weekends, taking the early shifts. After about three weeks, the owner, Mr Black, had pulled her aside and offered her a paid position. 

"I know my friends all thought I'd gone 'round the twist, but I said yes and gave my notice the next day. I started out helping set the volunteer schedules and now I'm basically in charge of the kitchen. Along with getting local restaurants and markets to donate food and the like. Mr Black handles the fund raising and he's quite proficient at it."

"So what exactly is Phoenix Rising? I thought this was a restaurant like the other places around here."

Rohana smiled. "Technically it's a soup kitchen. No one pays for their meals here. If you're able, you can volunteer to help out. Work as wait staff, bus the tables, help in the kitchen either with cooking prep or washing dishes. But we run it like a restaurant."

Draco tried not to let his ignorance about all things Muggle show, but he apparently wasn't very successful at it.

"I know," Rohana went on. "It's an odd way of running a soup kitchen, but Mr Black is adamant that no one should be made to feel like they are less than another person because they don't have the means to buy food. He has the soup kitchen here and a few blocks over he runs a shelter for the less fortunate.

Draco frowned as he set his spoon against the side of the bowl. "I'm employed. I'm not homeless. I work for my room." He sat up a bit straighter, picked up a slice of the buttered bread, bit into it. "There just isn't much left for meals sometimes."

"Oh heavens, I never meant to imply that you were homeless." Rohana laid a gentle hand on Draco's arm. "There's no shame in needing help."

Draco looked up from his bowl. "How long have you been watching me find food in the rubbish bins?"

After a long pause, Rohana sat on the stool next to Draco. Her hands folded neatly in her lap. "It has not been so very long. I happened to look out one night about a month ago and saw you bent over the bin. You pulled out some rolls, and you looked so pleased with the discovery. I watched a few more times before I decided that you should have some decent food." She twisted her hands together. "I've been here long enough to recognize when someone needs a friendly hand to help out."

"I do just fine with my life," Draco said, his pride rising. "I work, I have a room. And maybe sometimes I need to find some food, but not all the time." He wasn't quite prepared to admit that the only reason was he was quite good at making a small amount of food last a few days.

"Again," Rohana said in her soft tone. "I'm not trying to make you say anything you're not comfortable admitting. And if it would make you feel less like you are accepting charity, I can still leave a meal every few days on the top of the rubbish in the bin."

Draco stared at this woman he'd just met and yet marvelled that she understood how he felt about charity. "I…I'd appreciate that."

"No worries, Draco Malfoy. I'll not ask more of you than you are currently prepared to share. But please, do know that I would like to be your friend. So any evening you are _in the neighbourhood_ and you see the kitchen light on, please know you are always welcome in this kitchen. Either for a place to sit and be warm or a meal."

Draco stood. He'd suddenly wondered if that take-away container was still outside. He'd eaten all of the stew, not even thinking to save a bit for another meal. "You're very generous, Rohana. I'll not impose on your kindness any longer this evening." He looked up, startled, when a brown bag was pushed toward his hands and stepped back.

"Don't worry. It's nothing more than a bit of the stew you've just eaten. There's always extra here for someone to take with them."

Draco smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm still not exactly sure why you're being so kind to me. But for now, I'm going to accept it and say thank you. You're an unusual woman, Rohana." 

He turned and walked out the door, convinced he'd never knock on the kitchen door and see Rohana again.

oo00oo

Hard as he tried, Draco couldn't get his conversation with Rohana out of his head. He found himself thinking about her as he swept the apothecary floor, as he tried to clear his head before falling asleep. He even went so far as to find a new alley to forage in. Sadly, the offering in those bins was quite pitiful and in less than two weeks, Draco was back in the alley behind Phoenix Rising.

Even though he'd waited until nearly two in the morning, much to his dismay, the light was on in the kitchen. It didn't matter, Draco told himself. He'd just grab whatever was in the bin and go. But as he held the still slightly warm container of food in his hands, he thought of Rohana. Her honesty with him, her kindness and in spite of himself he walked over and knocked on the door. 

He saw Rohana's face peer out of the small window in the door and then heard the click as the locks opened. She pushed the door wide and smiled her amazing smile. "Draco Malfoy," she said softly. "It's good to see you. I was hoping you'd stop by again. Please, come in and join me for some tea and a sweet or two."

Draco walked in shaking his head. "I told myself I wasn't going to come back. Then I told myself I wasn't going to knock." He sighed. "And here I am breaking both of my own rules. I even came late thinking I'd not see a light on."

Rohana laughed and patted Draco's arm. "Today was a particularly trying day. One of our helpers managed to ignore my directions and cut his hand on a glass that had broken. I only recently returned from making sure he had a place to sleep in the shelter. I came in to be certain that the kitchen was ready for tomorrow. I was nearly finished when you knocked."

Draco stepped back to the door. "Oh, I didn't mean to make you stay later. You just said…I mean, I'll just go."

"Draco," Rohana said as he spoke. When he continued to stammer, she spoke up. "Draco!"

He looked at her, startled.

"You don't need to leave. I often stay here very late at night. In fact, I do it so often Mr Black has put a very comfortable sofa in my office."

Draco was appalled. "You shouldn't sleep here. You should go home and sleep in your own bed."

Rohana pulled the refrigerator door open before turning back towards him. "Don't worry yourself. I don't do it that often and when I do it's been for a very good reason. Tonight my reason would be that I get to spend more time in the company of an extremely attractive, although a bit thin, young gentleman."

Draco wanted to object, but he knew his current eating habits did nothing to put any weight on his thin frame. "I still don't want to be the reason you don't get a good night's sleep."

Setting a bowl on the counter, Rohana gave Draco a serious stare. "I'm quite old enough to decide where and how much I sleep, thanks ever so."

Draco held up his hands in supplication. "I'll stop then. But you don't have to feed me." He held up the bag he'd salvaged earlier. "I have plenty right here."

"You have much to learn about me." Rohana smiled at Draco. "I feed people. It's what I do. Some are born to teach, others to manage. I was born to bring food to others." She shrugged. "So, you must eat. It's a rule."

Draco laughed and realized it might be his first honest laugh in months. "If it's your calling, then who am I to object." He sat at the counter and listened as Rohana recounted her afternoon that led to spending several hours at the hospital.

Even though Draco found himself enthralled with Rohana's story, the late hour had him stifling a yawn. 

"Oh for goodness sake," Rohana exclaimed. "You should have told me to stop yammering ages ago. You're practically asleep in your empty bowl." She reached over and took Draco's bowl, placing it in the sink. 

"I was enjoying listening to your adventure," Draco said with a smile. "You certainly tell a captivating story."

Rohana's laugh was musical. "You are definitely tired if my prattle kept you enthralled. But it is late and we should both be getting some sleep."

Draco stood and moved towards the door, his bag of food in hand. "Thank you for the company and the food."

"It's been a pleasure." She hesitated. "Draco, could I give you lift somewhere? I have my car in the lot on the corner. It's far too late for you to be walking."

Draco paused, it wasn't like he could explain that he'd just head to the Apparition point in the next alley and be home before she'd walked to her car. Not to mention those car-things terrified him. "No, really it's fine. My place is only a couple of blocks. I'll be home by the time you're in your car."

Rohana followed him out the door, locking it behind her. She laid a hand on Draco's arm. "Before you go, Draco, I'd really like it if you'd come by Phoenix Rising during the day sometime soon. It would please me to show you how we operate. I won't ask you to promise, but I will ask you to think about it." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Please?"

Draco closed his eyes and sighed. How could he explain to this generous woman that Muggles still terrified him a bit? She had absolutely no idea what she was asking. He opened his eyes and looked into Rohana's chestnut brown eyes. "I…I'll think about it," he found himself saying.

She went onto her toes and kissed Draco's cheek. "Thank you. And be safe walking home."

In a bit of a daze, Draco walked to the Apparition point. After making sure there was no one around, he turned on the spot and disappeared.

oo00oo

Draco wandered around his small flat. Generally he'd spend his time off reading old copies of _The Prophet_ he'd found. Sometimes he'd find an old novel someone had left in the park when he visited. But today he was restless, the novel that had interested him a few days ago wasn't holding his attention. His mind kept drifting into the past, and the unlikely relationship that he'd walked away from rather than seeing pity in those familiar green eyes.

He and Harry had been slowly dropping their defences for months now while working on the resurrection of Hogwarts. At first, they'd kept a wary distance but the other man had noticed Draco struggling with the complicated magic of the old castle, trying to cast successfully with his mother's wand. The next day earnest green eyes held his, and his Hawthorne wand was offered in Potter's outstretched hand, a tentative smile on his lips. Draco's heart had jumped into his throat when he realized the smile, and the wand, were truly for him.

That was the beginning of their tentative friendship. At first it'd been working side by side on the ruined walls and corridors, casting spells that were surprisingly successful when mingled. They hadn't spoken a lot, but Potter laughed at Draco's wry jokes. Draco'd been surprised to discover Potter's sense of humour was dry, and he had a sharp wit Draco had never been aware of before. Then had come the afternoon when Draco caught Potter checking out Oliver Wood's arse when he walked by. He'd stared at Potter, momentarily shocked. How had he missed _that_ for the last eight years?

"What?" Potter had asked, his cheeks colouring, telling Draco he knew exactly 'what'.

"How have you managed to keep that from the _Prophet_?"

Potter'd snorted, waving his wand and lifting several chunks of brick and mortar back into place. "Like I had time to date, anyway."

Draco lowered his voice. "I seem to remember you being chummy with Cho Chang. And then there was the Weaslette…"

"Don't be an arse," Potter muttered, but Draco had noticed the slight smile on his lips. 

"Seriously, explain yourself, Potter. Because no straight man salivates after Wood's arse the way you just did."

Potter'd just lifted a broad shoulder. Those months on the run and living in a tent had been surprisingly kind to Potter; he came back to Hogwarts several inches taller and several stone heavier with muscle. When he and Draco stood side by side now they were nearly the same height. Draco thought it something of a miracle that Potter hadn't noticed Draco checking _his_ arse out; it was hard to miss, and it was excellent.

"Well," Potter had finally drawled slowly, "it was actually Ginny who first clued me in that I probably fancied a fit bloke more than her."

"Oh, I have got to hear this story." Draco propped his hands on his hips, staring, waiting. Potter finally sent him a teasing grin.

"Sod off, you wanker," Potter'd said. "I'm not telling you anything, at least not here." He quirked a black brow. "Maybe over dinner some night…"

Draco's mouth had dropped open at that. "Did you just ask me out?"

Potter looked around, his brow furrowed. "How about announcing that a little louder, Malfoy. I don't think Skeeter heard you in her office _in Diagon_."

Draco couldn't help it; he laughed. "Gods, you're an arse."

"Pot, kettle."

They stared at each other, grinning like fools. Finally, Draco turned back to the wall they were repairing. He shook his head as he lifted his wand. "Let me get this mess with the Ministry cleaned up. Then we can talk about having dinner." Draco hadn’t been able to focus on anything back then, at least not anything that wasn’t tied to the Wizengamot hearing he’d been about to face.

"That's next Tuesday, right?" Potter had asked. Draco nodded.

His hearing had been the next Tuesday, all right. And his life had changed forever that day. They'd taken the Manor, his vault, and his parents vaults for reparation, left him homeless and penniless with the condition that he find 'lawful employment' the only thing keeping him out of Azkaban. They'd also taken the wand Potter had returned to him, replacing it with the one he had now. It was a provisional wand; if he 'kept his nose clean' for five years, they might deign to return the Hawthorne one to him.

Draco'd disappeared from Hogwarts right after the hearing. How could he explain to Potter that they'd done everything but actually magically emasculate him? He couldn't; it was as simple, and as futile as that. 

Casting a quick _Tempus_ Draco saw it was just about mid-afternoon. He knew Rohana would be at Phoenix Rising, preparing for the evening meal. Throwing his better judgement aside, Draco pulled on his nicest shirt and put a jumper over it. He grabbed his coat and went quietly down the back staircase and out into Knockturn Alley and to the nearest Apparition point. 

Landing with a soft pop, Draco checked the area before walking out of the entrance to the newer, cleaner alley. It certainly wouldn't do to suddenly _appear_ out of virtually nowhere in front of some Muggle, so he was cautious. He'd learned that bit of truth the hard way when he first began foraging for food. Shoving his hands in his pockets, face lowered against the cold wind, he walked to Phoenix Rising. Draco wondered if he should knock at the kitchen door or enter from the front. He knew at night it would be Rohana in the kitchen, but he worried that during the day there would be other workers there that might tell him to leave. Plucking up every ounce of Malfoy courage he still possessed, and there wasn't much, Draco left the alley and walked to the front entrance.

The door had a bell that gave a merry little jingle when Draco stepped inside. It was a large space with several long wooden tables and chairs running their length. The room was sparse, but it still felt comfortable and welcoming. There was a large fireplace at one end, a cheery fire burning on the hearth and managing to both warm the hall and make it feel homey. The decoration was kept to a minimum but what there was of it was tasteful; simple carpeting, gray walls, small arrangements of flowers every few feet on the tables' surfaces. Draco looked around nervously, hoping to spot Rohana before any of the Muggles sitting at the tables noticed him. Unfortunately, luck was not his friend.

"Yo, Ro!" a man in a worn jumper called out. "Got a new one at the door looking like he's about to run or have an accident."

The room only had about fifteen people in it at the moment, though it could seat at least a hundred more, and Draco felt every one of those sets of eyes turn and stare at him. He was about to step back into the cold when Rohana came through a doorway, into the room.

"Edgar, what have I told you about the proper way to greet new people?" She admonished, shaking her head and laughing when she turned to see who stood near the door.

"Oh…my." Rohana paused before rushing over. "Draco! You came." She pulled him into a hug, like a long-lost friend. When she released him, Draco knew his face was red. "Everyone this is Draco. I met him under some unusual circumstances a while back and have been trying to convince him to join us for a meal or two."

Edgar stood and walked over, his weathered hand outstretched. "Welcome. That's a pretty unusual name, I think I'll just call you Blondie."

Rohana gave Edgar an affectionate slap on the arm. "Then how about if we all start calling you Eddie?"

Edgar scowled at Rohana, but then he shrugged. "Understood." He looked back over at Draco. "Welcome, mate." He returned to his seat and continued talking to the man and woman at his table.

Greetings were called out from the other patrons, but no one else moved from their seats.

"I'm so happy you stopped in," Rohana said, lowering her voice, "during daylight hours." She put an arm around Draco's shoulders. "Here, give me your coat and let me show you around," she continued in a normal tone. She took his coat and laid it over the back of one of the chairs. 

Draco let her lead him deeper into the sprawl of tables. A few people were still watching him, but most had gone back to their conversations, and the rest soon followed, losing interest in Draco's presence.

"This," Rohana said, spreading her arms out, "is obviously the dining room." 

"Is that a menu board?" Draco asked, pointing to a chalk board hanging on the wall. On it were descriptions of several entrees, two soups and three desserts, all written in a neat hand.

"Oh yes," Rohana said, her pride evident in her voice. "Each patron gets to select his or her choice for their meal. It gives the place more of a feeling of a restaurant, rather than a soup kitchen. Even though that's technically what we are."

Draco looked around at the wooden tables, some with benches and some with chairs, then over at an area to one side set up with coffee urns and mugs. "This is so much more than a place for a free meal."

"We like to think so." Rohana smiled warmly at him. "I know you've seen the kitchen, but it's a completely different place during the day. Follow me."

Draco walked behind Rohana through the large swinging doors, and stopped. The stainless countertops that were clean and shiny at night were now filled with trays of food. Men and women stood at the counters preparing vegetables and meats. Others were pulling dishes from a steaming machine and placing them in stacks on a rolling cart. 

"This is amazing," Draco told Rohana. "I've never seen anything like it. I thought you did all the cooking."

"Heavens no!" Rohana shook her head emphatically. "I'd never be able to feed all the people who come here in a day. We open around eleven in the morning and serve until eight at night. Depending on the day, we can give out close to five hundred meals. And that number grows every week."

Draco shook his head. "And still you took the time to leave me food. You're a remarkable person, Rohana."

"I like to help people and to feel useful."

Rohana turned to speak to one of the workers, when a commotion was heard in the dining room. Draco could hear greetings being called out, and laughter as voices raised. Rohana looked thorough the small window in the door.

"Ah," she said, a wide smile spreading on her face. "That would be our Mr Black. I wondered if he'd pop in today. Come on out here with me, Draco; you have to meet him."

"Oh, no." Draco dug in his heals, keenly aware of his threadbare clothes and worn, ugly shoes. He wasn't up to meeting anyone as clearly well-healed as this mysterious ‘Mr. Black'.

"Oh, yes," Rohana retorted. "Don't be foolish. He's just a man, no different than you."

 _Except he has money_." Draco remembered his affluent childhood with regret, the closet stuffed with good clothes, the food the elves had put on the table that Draco’d all too often complained about. How things had changed, he thought with a sigh.

Rohana practically pulled Draco back into the dining room. "Mr Black," she called out over the din. 

Draco took in the back of the man who was bent at the waist talking to Edgar. He was wearing a navy jumper that pulled snugly over muscular shoulders. He was about as tall as Draco, but the smart jeans he wore showcased nice thighs and, if Draco was any judge — and oh how he was — a lovely tight arse.

What he was totally unprepared for was _who_ that lovely tight arse was attached to. 

Rohana pulled Draco by the arm. "Mr Black. I'd like you to meet…"

Harry Potter turned and stilled, his face settling into a carefully blank expression as he finished her sentence. "Draco Malfoy."

Draco felt all of the blood rush from his face as he stared into achingly familiar, thickly lashed green eyes. Draco was unable to make his feet move to follow his first impulse; to run and never look back.

Rohana was confused. "You know him?" She glanced back at Draco, her brows furrowing. "Draco?"

Draco swallowed, afraid he was going to lose his meagre breakfast right there on Potter's shoes.

"We knew each other many years ago." Potter answered softly. "Practically a lifetime ago."

"We went to school together, when we were younger."

The air was charged as Draco and Harry stared at each other. Draco felt an odd trembling begin in his chest, and he had no idea what to say next. 

Rohana nodded. "So, you were friends."

"It was a little more complicated than that, but when we last saw each other I'd like to think we were on our way to becoming friends," Harry replied.

Draco really wasn't certain he wanted to have this conversation. But he was positive that he didn't want to have it in front of Rohana. Finally he decided this was a good time to leave, if he could get his feet to move. He turned to Rohana, who was looking at him with consternation. "Thank you for showing me around. It's very impressive."

"But you've not eaten," Rohana protested. 

"I think it's best if I go," Draco said quietly. "You've been more than kind."

Harry took a step closer and laid a hand on Draco's arm. Draco tried not to flinch at the warmth of Harry's touch. "Please don't leave. Not on my account."

Draco looked down at Harry's hand, then back up at Harry. His mouth tightened ever so slightly and Harry pulled his hand away self-consciously. So many things were running through Draco's mind. Mr Black? What was that about? Why was Harry Potter in charge of a Muggle soup kitchen? Draco longed to ask, but instead he shook his head, overwhelmed by just being in front of Harry once again. "I think it would be wise if I did." 

"Draco," Harry said with a small, uncertain smile. "When have we ever done anything that was particularly wise?" Draco couldn't help the small snort that escaped him, and Harry's smile softened. "Please, I'd like to talk."

Rohana went onto her toes and gave Draco a kiss on his cheek. "I _know_ that's my cue to leave. Your coat's on the chair. Funnily enough, right next to Mr Black's coat. I'd say that's a sign for the two of you to take a walk and catch up."

Harry picked up Draco's worn coat and held it. Draco hesitated before he slipped his arms into the sleeves with a resigned sigh, still certain this was a huge mistake. What would Harry think of him when he found out he was nothing more than one of the men who ate in Phoenix Rising every night? That he was no more than a janitor in Knockturn Alley? Draco was sure that this would be a very short conversation indeed.

"Thanks, Ro," Harry said as they walked to the door. He turned to the room at large. "You lot help Ro out. Don't just be sitting around drinking coffee and eating all of tonight's pudding."

The group of men and women laughed and waved as Harry and Draco walked out.

They strolled for about half a block before the silence began to feel overwhelming to Draco. "So, are we simply going to walk around the block to appease everyone back there?"

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, chuckling softly. "It would take more than that to appease that crowd. Nothing short of a wedding band would do that." Draco shot him a look and Harry shrugged self-consciously. "They think I spend too much time volunteering and not enough on myself. Silly sods." They walked on a bit further, the silence growing weightier. "I'm not exactly sure where to begin" Harry finally said tentatively. "I have so many questions I want to ask you. So many things I want to know."

"Pick one and ask," Draco sighed. "Worse case scenario is I won't answer."

Harry looked at him, brow furrowed. "Why did you leave?" he asked. "No Owl, no note left behind. Just one day you were gone. I need to know why."

Draco shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. "Can we sit somewhere. This might take some time and I'd rather not freeze, thanks much."

"Sure," Harry replied. "There's a café just in the next block. They should be pretty empty this time of day. And they have great hot cocoa."

"Still have the taste buds of a twelve-year-old, do you?" Draco smiled wistfully. "Although as delightful as that sounds, I have no Muggle money on me. Or any type of money on me for that matter."

"Don't worry," Harry said, "I can cover the cost of a cup of cocoa for us both." Harry opened the door to the small café, and followed Draco through the door. "I'll go order. You find us a table where we can talk."

Draco found a table off to the side. He took off his jacket, hanging it over the back of his chair before he sat, wondering how this could possibly be anything less than a disaster. At least it was a Muggle café, and Draco knew Potter would never Hex him in front of Muggles, so he had that in his favour. 

Harry came to the table and sat. "I hope you don't mind. As long as I'm indulging my inner-twelve-year-old, I ordered us cheese toasties to go with the hot cocoa."

Draco shook his head with a wry laugh. "Cheese toasties? Really, Potter? Or should I be calling you 'Black' now?"

"I was going to grab something at Phoenix," Harry said with a shrug. "And frankly I don't care what you call me, as long as you answer my question." He rested his elbows on the table, and leaned forward over them. "Why did you leave?"

Draco sighed. Potter never had been one to beat around the bush and apparently time hadn't changed that one bit.

"Look at me," Draco began. Harry looked at him, clearly not understanding. "No, really _look_ at me. What do you see?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, I see you, Draco Malfoy. You're a bit older," Harry hesitated. His gaze slid down Draco's torso. "You're not quite as well dressed as I've seen you."

Draco's mouth twisted to one side. "And so he cottons on. What do you know about my trial?" Harry frowned. 

"They sealed all of the transcripts." That startled Draco; he hadn't known. "I did try to find out."

"They took everything? The Manor, all of the vaults. I have nothing. They even took my wand and I'm stuck with a piece of shite that barely works!" Draco's voice had risen, and he stopped abruptly when the clerk came over with their cocoa and toasties. 

Harry looked up and gave her a strained smiled. "Thanks, just leave it here." When the clerk's back was turned, Harry cast a subtle _Muffliato_ to prevent everyone from hearing their conversation. 

"So you left because you were broke?" Harry said finally, looking disgusted. "The mighty Draco Malfoy was suddenly like everyone else and he couldn't stand it?"

"Right," Draco snarled, temper rising. Harry always had been able to hack him off more quickly than anyone he knew. "Got it in one. Oh, I also had to find _suitable_ employment or my parole would become a seven-year stint in Azkaban. Thank your pals at the Wizengamot for that one."

"So, you have a job. So do I. For Christ's sake, Malfoy, that's not anything to be ashamed of."

"You still don't get it, do you?" Draco shook his head. "No one would hire me, I had nowhere to live. _No one would hire me_ , Potter, and believe me I tried damn near every wizarding shop I knew. Finally, Bithersee took me on to clean up the apothecary at night in exchange for a one room hovel above the store." Draco shook his head. "I honestly think he only did it to see a Malfoy brought low enough to be scrapping shite off his floor."

"But that still was no reason for you to leave," Harry said stubbornly. "You had a room at Hogwarts. You could have stayed there."

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. "You're not listening. I could not stay at Hogwarts. I had forty-eight hours to find a job. They were going to send me to Azkaban. I had to go."

Harry took a sip of his cocoa. "But you didn't even leave a note." Something in his voice caught, and Draco looked up at him in surprise. Harry was frowning into his cup, a lost look on his face.

It took all of Draco's willpower not to grab Harry's hand. 

"I'm sorry about that. I truly am. I thought once I had a job and was a bit settled, I'd let you know what happened. But then no one would hire me and I had to take this shitty job living in one room in Knockturn Alley." Taking a deep breath, Draco continued, in for a Knut, in for a Galleon. "Do you know how I met Rohana?"

Harry shook his head. He looked up at Draco.

Draco drew in an unsteady breath. He hated this, hated having to admit to Harry how far he’d fallen. "My room was my pay. I had nothing. After a few days I was so hungry I didn't know what to do. I was walking down a street in Muggle London when I saw a man throw what looked like half of a sandwich in the bin. No one was around so I pulled it out and went back to my room." Draco bit his lip, shame welling up in him. He thought about getting up, leaving Harry behind. But he’d already done that once, hadn’t he? Perhaps he owed Harry this much, at least. He looked up at Harry, met his gaze. "I pulled off the part where he'd eaten and before I could give it too much thought, I ate the rest of the sandwich."

Harry sat so still, Draco wasn't sure if he was upset or furious. But now that he'd started talking, Draco knew he had to finish his story so he could leave Harry in peace.

"After that it became easier to dig through rubbish bins to find food. The restaurants near Phoenix Rising have particularly good rubbish." Draco's grin was forced.

Harry started to speak, but Draco held up his hand to stop him. 

"Please, just let me finish." Draco said, his voice soft, and Harry sat back in his chair, his face unreadable. Draco took a deep breath. "One night I was foraging and I found what appeared to be a take away bag someone had left behind so the restaurant put it in the rubbish. It was a container of the best beef and barley soup. I took it home and made it last for four days. It was delicious. A few days later I discovered a container of chicken and rice soup. I was suspicious, but also hungry so I took it. Then I decided to set up a little stake out to see who was putting these meals in the bin. Long story short, I discovered Rohana was behind the amazing food that was being left." He looked up at Harry. "For me."

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything, then he exhaled slowly, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. "She is a remarkable woman. She could work anywhere, gave up a good job in fact. I'm lucky to have her working at Phoenix Rising."

They looked at each other until Draco had to avert his eyes, uncomfortable to admit what he was about to say while looking into Harry's eyes. He'd never forgotten the colour, but the way they made him feel stripped raw, that he'd forgotten.

"I don't expect you to understand, Potter." He murmured. "I did what I needed to do to survive. And I'll continue to live in my one room hovel and deal with the shite I have to endure from Bithersee because in three months, eleven days and roughly nine hours, my parole will be over. And while I've no clue in the world what I'm going to do then, I'll figure it out."

Harry reached across the table and laid his hand on Draco's arm. "You don't have to do this alone. You have Rohana. And you have me. We're on your side."

Draco swallowed, his throat tight as he nodded. "I appreciate that. But three months. In three months, I can have my life back. Until then I just have to survive." 

He wrapped his cheese toastie in a napkin and stood, pulling his coat from the back of the chair. "And until then, I can't do this. I have to follow the conditions of my parole. So, Harry Potter or Harry Black – which you will explain to me one day – please just let me survive the way I know how." Draco turned and walked out of the café, leaving Harry behind before he could lose his resolve.

oo00oo

Nearly three weeks passed after Draco left Harry sitting in that café. Difficult as it had been, Draco was having an even harder time avoiding Phoenix Rising. It surprised him to discover that he missed his conversations with Rohana. Missed watching her bustle about the kitchen, putting together a meal for him. He'd managed to find food in other places, so he wasn't starving. Still, he'd find himself wondering what they were serving that night or if she had any amusing stories to tell him.

Finally he wasn't able to stay away and he found himself knocking at the kitchen door shortly after he finished cleaning for the night.

Rohana opened the door a crack and smiled so widely, Draco had a hard time believing her delight was for him. "Draco! Oh, I've been wishing you'd come back and now you're here!" She pulled him inside and shut the door. 

"I'm so sorry that seeing Mr Black upset you. But you know he's never here this late, so you don't need to stop coming just avoid seeing him."

Draco struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. Leave it to Potter to say something so asinine. "Is that what he told you? That I wasn't coming ‘round because of him?"

Rohana looked sheepish. "Well no. Actually, he didn't say anything at all other than you'd spent some time catching up and that whatever arrangement you and I had regarding food was fine with him."

"Rohana," Draco said seriously. "There are things in my past that I can't and won't discuss. But I'm asking you to trust me when I say that part of my life is nearly over. When it is, I might find myself needing a different job. You don't have to answer me now, but maybe when that time comes. Well, I wonder if you might be able to use me here, at Phoenix Rising."

Rohana pulled him into a hug. "When the time comes, Draco Malfoy, I'm fairly certain I can help you out."

Draco stepped back, pretending not to notice as she swiped at her eyes. "So now, tell me all the exploits I've missed."

oo00oo

_Two months, twenty-one days and six hours later…_

Draco walked out of the Ministry for Magic. His parole had been met and they had grudgingly returned his hawthorne wand. It was all he could do to stop himself from casting any spell at all to _feel_ his magic again. 

He hurried to the nearest Apparition point and practically ran to Knocturn Alley and the apothecary, and walked in the front door for the first time since he'd come begging for a job five years before. Old Bithersee looked up and scowled. "Help uses the back door. The front's for paying customers."

Draco looked the ancient man in the eye. "You sanctimonious old coot. I'm only here to gather my belongings."

Bithersee spluttered. "You can't talk to me like that boy. I've a mind to Owl the Ministry and tell them you're no longer employed here. Just see how smug you are when they're putting your skinny arse in Azkaban."

"Well that isn't going to happen because as of," Draco paused, looking at the clock on the wall, "about fifteen minutes ago, my parole has been fulfilled and _I_ am a free man. So you can take your hovel and your job and shove them!"

Leaving Bithersee stuttering, Draco hurried to his room and picked up the small suitcase of his posessions. When Draco clattered back down the stairs, the man was standing where he'd left him, his face beet red and Draco decided he'd best leave before he exploded.

Rushing out the door, Draco was drawn up short when he found Harry Potter was standing out front, his hands in his pockets. He gave Draco a slow smile.

"Rumour has it you're a free man," Harry said taking a step closer. 

"The rumour mill runs quickly these days," Draco replied, drawing himself to his full height, the weight on his shoulders wonderfully, blissfully _gone_. His heart thudded unevenly against his chest.

Harry reached over and curled his hand over the handle of Draco's suitcase, pressing against Draco's hand. Draco caught his breath, the warmth of that touch spreading up his arm. Harry smiled as if he knew and took the suitcase from Draco's unprotesting hand. "I also heard you might be looking to start over."

Draco paused, then stepped closer. "You heard that, did you?"

"Mmhmnn," Harry replied. "And I happen to know of a place where you can get a job."

"Convenient," Draco said, allowing himself a slight smile. When Harry took his hand, curling his fingers warmly around it, he felt his cheeks heat. "Why don't you tell me all about it, Mr Black." He gave Harry a teasing grin.

"I'd like to tell you about that and a number of other things, Draco Malfoy." Harry paused, pulling Draco to a stop in front of him. He met Draco's eyes with a steady, earnest expression, "if you'd let me."

Draco stared into Harry's eyes, his heart filling at the familiar shape, and the color of them. "I think I'd like that quite a lot," he murmured. When Harry took a step nearer, Draco forced himself to stay still, waiting to see what would happen. He wasn't disappointed. Harry came in more closely, angling his head. He moved with almost glacial slowness, as if afraid Draco might change his mind and pull away, but finally, finally Harry covered Draco's lips with his own. 

It was his first kiss in more than seven years, but more importantly it was his first kiss with _Harry Potter._ Fantasized about, yes; dreamed about, even practiced on a pillow beginning when he was fourteen, although he'd die before he admitted that. But this was the first, honest to Merlin lip lock with the boy wonder, and oh, did he live up to the billing. Draco's toes curled in his ratty boots and the hair at his nape stirred as chills covered his shoulders. 

Harry's lips were soft and mobile, his jaw faintly rough with stubble and the combination of sensations made Draco want to crawl in the man's jumper and live there. When Harry's tongue brushed the seam of his lips he opened them with a small eager sound that might have embarrassed him if he'd been in his right mind. But he wasn't, and instead he lifted one hand to Harry's nape, sliding his fingers into that disreputable mop he'd always wanted to get his hands on, and finding it softer than it looked as another layer of sensation and surprise that propelled him to lean into Harry's hard chest. A muscled arm curled around his waist and Harry's tongue did a slow, thorough inventory of Draco's rear molars and the roof of his mouth, and Draco thought he might die of pleasure. He swallowed a sound that would have emerged as a whimper, and when Harry gently ended the kiss and leaned back, the fact that his pupils were blown wide was balm to the ego of a man who hadn't kissed anyone in nearly eight years; Draco revelled in it. 

"Wow," Harry breathed, looking as shell shocked as Draco felt. "I…uh," he cleared his throat and stared into Draco's face as if just seeing him for the first time. "Next time we do that, I prefer it was on a horizontal surface and anywhere but here."

For the first time Draco was reminded of the fact that they were in Knockturn Alley, of all places, surrounded by some very unsavoury characters, and that he'd just been attempting to remove Harry Potter's tonsils _with his tongue_. Draco looked at the several leering faces around them and could only remember something his father had told him once; don't become distracted in Knockturn Alley; it might be the last thing you ever do. His first inclination was to protect Harry.

He glanced up at Harry's face and realized something in that moment; the years had been very kind to boy Potter, who was quite emphatically no longer a boy. One look into the now chilly eyes taking in the other inhabitants of the dark wizard district might have caused Draco to piss himself if it were aimed at him. Harry had curled an arm around his waist and was holding onto the back of Draco's coat in a tight grip. The idea of not having to duck around these dodgy types in an attempt to preserve both life and limb, that he no longer had to do anything here at all, nearly made Draco weep with gratitude. When Harry whispered, "let's get out of here," Draco nodded raggedly. 

The pull and turn of Apparition was a shock and Draco landed with something less than his usual grace, to find himself in that back alley behind Phoenix Rising, right next to the trash bin that had changed his life. The back door to the unique soup kitchen opened and Rohana appeared, dark eyes shining and gorgeous smile, as ever, in evidence.

"Draco Malfoy," she said, white teeth shining, arms reaching out. Draco stepped out of the circle of Harry's arm and into hers. She held on tight, giving him a spine cracking hug that pulled him down into her embrace. "I'm so glad to see you," she said, speaking softly. "How does it feel to be free?"

He looked up and found Harry watching them fondly, and allowed himself a laugh so light-hearted he scarcely recognized it as coming from his own mouth. 

"How does it feel to be free?" he repeated, allowing himself to savour the thought. Harry smiled at him, a deeply promising expression in his eyes, and Draco straightened to return the smile, then looked down at the little woman in his arms. "It feels brilliant, Ro. Absolutely brilliant."

finis

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/159293.html).


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